So Long and Goodnight
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: REVISED AND EXPANDED! Zack is poisoned on a mission and Sephiroth must find the antidote within a very limited timeframe.
1. Every Star Fall

**Final Fantasy VII**

**So Long and Goodnight**

**By LuckyLadybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! Many thanks to Lisa for plot help and the story's title! It was directly inspired by the prompts "Church" and "Virus/Poison" at Mako Reactor. And now I will finally get around to making this a bit longer and hopefully less rushed. I still love the original version of this story I was trying to tell, but I decided I can do even better. I haven't, however, fixed the little conflict with canon later in the story, as the whole point of that meeting was that they had never previously met, nor knew anything of each other.  
**

* * *

**Percentage of New Content in Chapter: 75**

**Chapter One**

Zack Fair hissed as his opponent's sword sliced into his upper right arm, not deeply, but enough to draw blood. Immediately he retaliated, bringing his blade to crash against the other's and forcing the older man back.

He and Sephiroth had been sent to take care of a hostage situation in one of Shinra's buildings at Pulheim—a town not far from Midgar. They had managed without incident to enter the building through a back entrance and then to find the room where the people had been trapped. But upon realizing that their plan had been interrupted, the two men responsible had begun battling the SOLDIERs. Seph was across the room, locked in his fight, and Zack had to handle this one. But his opponent was almost worn down by now. Zack was going to win.

The sword flew out of the dangerous man's hands as Zack attacked again without warning. He swallowed hard, backing up against the wall. But then, as he looked up into Zack's lavender eyes, a wicked sneer began to spread over his face.

"Our demands were not met," he said, "and there is nothing left." He closed his mouth, and it almost sounded as though he was biting on something.

Zack frowned, not liking either the look or the sound. "Hey, what are you doing?" he demanded. What he wanted was to be able to take this guy in, to have him questioned by Shinra's military. But somehow, it sounded like that was not going to happen. Or at least, that the other believed it would not.

"I am sealing my fate," the man smiled. "Shinra will not win this time." His eyes rolled back into his head as his body began to tremble. Zack stared, only able to move his blade out of the way before his enemy crashed to the floor, violently convulsing. Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped, and the form was still.

Zack's frown only deepened. He had been hiding something in his mouth, probably under his tongue, and it looked like it had been some sort of a poison capsule. Leaning the sword against the wall, and pulling off a glove, Zack bent down and placed his fingers to the other's neck. Nothing. He had killed himself.

Slowly the brunet straightened up again. It was still hard to understand why some people became so desperate that they would do such things. If they felt that they did not want to go on living, that was one thing, and that was bad enough, but why involve so many innocent people? At least twenty-five or thirty had been held hostage tonight. It was not right! Were the creeps trying to scar their victims for life? They were never going to forget what had happened here. And neither would the SOLDIERs.

He looked up abruptly when he heard a cry of pain from the man Seph was fighting. The sword had pierced him, and now he was falling shakily to his knees as he stared up at Seph. Then he gave a weak smirk, slumping forward as the Masamune was withdrawn from his chest.

Sephiroth glowered at the body. Such a smug fool. He had deliberately ran into the sword, apparently wanting death. Well, he had gotten it. It was not on Sephiroth's conscience.

He looked over at Zack as he took a cloth to clean his blade. "Are we done here?" he grunted.

Zack nodded. "Looks like it," he confirmed. "But Seph, this guy killed himself with some kind of poison in his mouth. . . ."

Sephiroth frowned, walking over to the scene. "It can't be helped," he said. "We'll take the bodies back with us to headquarters and have the substance analyzed. It's possible that the other one had it with him, as well." At least one of the troublemakers had been involved with illegal drugs. That sort of thing was not SOLDIER's department, at least not usually, but from what he had learned, one of the man's suppliers was rumored to be connected with an equally illegal scientist. Maybe that person had invented the poison. And new poisons being discovered by opposing scientists was not something Shinra wanted to see happen.

"Okay." Zack glanced back to the frightened hostages, who had all clustered together and were still staring with wide eyes. "Hey, there's no problem now!" he called to them. "You can all relax."

Some of them slowly did, obviously relieved. Others remained on edge, shifting in worry.

Zack sheathed his sword, then came over to the corpse and reached to pull it up under the arms. It seemed so strange, that a few minutes ago that had been a living, breathing person. And then, just like that, the guy had decided to take his own life instead of being arrested by Shinra. Well, it should not really be a surprise. A lot of the people who hated the company, and SOLDIER, were like that. Heck, sometimes they were even worse, like the nutcases in Dismal who had tried to blow up the whole village so that they would not be captured. It was sick.

He winced as his arm abruptly stung in warning. "Ow," he muttered, releasing the limp form as he glanced over at the wound. In all the commotion, it had been forgotten almost as soon as it had been sustained.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, coming over to him. "It doesn't look serious," he mused as he examined it. "The bleeding's already stopped. But maybe we should have it checked for poison anyway. I don't trust men who hold people hostage before purposely killing themselves." Pulling out a clean cloth, he wrapped and tied it around Zack's arm as a makeshift bandage.

"Poison?" Zack shivered. "Hey, if the blade'd been messed up like that, I'd be dead now," he said, trying to lighten his tone.

Sephiroth nodded in thoughtfulness as he stepped back. "You're probably right. But it's a precaution we should take anyway."

"Fine with me!" Zack replied, returning to his task.

* * *

"Well, doc? What do you think?"

Zack blinked at the physician, who was frowning as he adjusted his glasses and studied the wound. Raising the arm by the elbow, he squinted as the injury was brought more fully into the light. He was an older man who had worked for Shinra for many years, and he was supposed to be one of the best.

But Sephiroth, standing near the door with crossed arms, did not know that he found the continual checking of the slash to be very encouraging. It was as if the man could not decide what he thought of it.

At last the doctor looked up. "All looks in order," he reported. "I'd say it's just an ordinary flesh wound. It will hurt for a while, but it should heal just fine. Though I could take a blood sample, if you'd like . . . ?"

It was really tempting to say No. He was starting to get really exhausted. More than anything, he just wanted to get out of there, and fast.

But Sephiroth spoke up before the matter could be dismissed. "Do it," he said. When they were dealing with treacherous people such as they had encountered tonight, it was better to be safe than sorry. Some poisons were untraceable, but others could be found in the blood and halted before they could bring devastation on the unwilling host.

A nod was his answer. "Yes, let's," he murmured, ignoring Zack's look of woe. "And then we'll stitch and wrap this up. Don't do any strenuous activities for at least a couple of days, young man," he added in a scolding tone.

Zack blinked innocently. "What kinds of things would be strenuous? Besides the obvious, I mean."

The physician reached for a needle, which Zack's gaze immediately fixed upon. "Just go back to your base and do whatever they have you do there," he said. "Paperwork, computer work . . ."

"Aww, but that's strenuous!" Zack protested. He continued to stare down the needle as his arm was cleaned once more. The sharp prick was inserted, withdrawing a small amount of the lifegiving substance. He winced.

"How is that strenuous?" Sephiroth grunted.

"Because it's stressful!" Zack said. "Ow!" He glowered at the pointy thing as it was taken away at last.

The doctor shook his head. "A strong boy like you can take serious wounds without a whimper, but you can't stand a tiny little needle?"

Zack shrugged. "Hey, it's the straw that breaks the camel's back, you know?"

The elderly man sealed the instrument into a plastic bag. "I'll have this sent to the lab right away," he said. "The results should be back in the morning."

Sephiroth nodded. "We'll call then," he said.

Soon Zack's arm was successfully stitched and bandaged. He hopped down from the examination table, grinning as he leaped over to Seph. "There!" he said, displaying the gauze for his friend to see. "All better. Can we go now?"

Sephiroth turned, pushing the door open. Zack moved to follow. "Thanks!" he called over his shoulder, waving to the white-coated man.

The doctor was amused, in spite of himself. Such a cheerful boy. But then he looked away, melancholia darkening his thoughts. How someone such as Commander Fair had made it into SOLDIER was still a mystery to him. Either it would destroy him in the end, or he would be the one to change it for good.

* * *

Zack yawned as he and Seph walked back down the hall of Shinra's clinic. "So," he said, "back to the hotel now?" He placed his arms behind his head, lacing his fingers at the back. Already his arm had stopped bothering him. He would be back in commission before they knew it—helping Seph put down rebellions, rescuing people, and all that good stuff.

Sephiroth nodded. "Are you up to eating, or would you rather go right to bed?"

Zack yawned again. "Maybe I'll grab something from a vending machine and munch it on the way back," he said. "Oh, here's one now." He wandered over to the windowed box, looking the selections up and down. Chips . . . more chips . . . cookies . . . crackers . . . man, picking just one sounded impossible. His stomach began to growl.

Sephiroth was amused. "You'll be here all night if you don't choose," he said. "Why not pick two or three of the choices you like best?"

"But I like them all!" Zack exclaimed. Rooting in his pocket, he pulled out some gil coins and began to count. "You want something too, Seph? My treat."

Sephiroth grunted. "Anything from this vending machine is junk food," he said. And he tried to avoid it where possible. Though he did have a weakness for some kinds of chips, he preferred the less salty crackers during the rare times he allowed himself a snack.

"Aww, it won't kill you one time," Zack said. "How about this big oatmeal creme sandwich cookie?" He tapped the glass.

. . . That did sound good. Of all the kinds of cookies Zack had introduced him to, oatmeal was his favorite. It was a sensible cookie, and not overly sweet. But his pride kept him from outright agreeing to Zack's suggestion. He gave a half-shrug, which Zack would interpret as the closest to Yes he would get.

Zack grinned, inserting the coins and pressing the buttons. Two of the wrapped cookies descended into the tray below, as well as two packets of crackers. Scooping it all out, Zack handed Seph one of each before fishing for his change.

Sephiroth looked the package of crackers up and down. Butter crackers with a hint of cheese. Placing the cookie in his coat pocket, he pulled open the cracker bag and removed one of the items inside. He studied it before taking a bite.

Zack was terribly amused. "You've gotta make sure it's edible first?" he commented, ripping open his own package and popping an entire cracker into his mouth.

Sephiroth fixed him with a deadpan stare. "How do you even enjoy the taste if you devour it like a wild animal?"

Zack blinked at him as he chewed. When he swallowed, he spoke again. "I enjoy it!" he chirped. "What about you, Seph? Do you like it?"

Sephiroth took another bite. "It's not bad."

Zack grinned. "You like it!"

Sephiroth did not respond. It was odd, how no one else could have gotten him to a vending machine . . . and then to even sample its offerings. No one else would have dared ask him in the first place.

But Zack always proved that he was different from everyone else. And that was not a bad thing.

Not at all.


	2. The Worst That I Can Say

**Percentage of New Content: 15**

**Chapter Two**

It was hard for Zack to pull himself awake in the morning. More than once he roused up, threw the covers over his head, and dozed again. There was not anything wrong with him; his wound had been examined the previous night and shown to be perfectly fine. But for some reason, he was just so_tired. . . ._ Though, he usually was worn out after those big missions. Once the adrenaline rush passed, he often would be hit by a wave of exhaustion and would sleep and sleep.

It was a knock on the door that finally woke him up for the day.

"Zack? We're going to need to leave soon, to start back to Midgar."

He yawned, raising himself up on his elbows as the blanket slipped off his shoulders. "Yeah, I know," he called back.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he pushed himself into a sitting position and ran a hand through his raven locks. He had showered last night, before bed, and now it felt like his hair was completely dry. Hopefully it would cooperate. Judging from the pieces flopping into his eyes, it might not.

He smirked. Seph would have a heyday if his hair was having a bad day. Zack had nothing against Seph's long, silver hair, but he often liked to tease him about tying it back or putting it in a braid to keep it out of the way. And then usually it was Zack's hair that got in the way instead. Seph, in his calm, deadpan way, would duly make note of that fact.

Ah, Zack loved that guy.

He glanced over at the gauze around his right upper arm. It looked fine; there was not any hint of red staining it at all. The cut had been bad enough to require stitches, but it was going to heal right up. That was good; he hated injuries that kept him from going about life normally.

Slowly he swung his legs out, setting his feet on the floor and forcing himself to stand. Wow, his body was aching. It was almost like it was when he had not gotten much sleep at all. It was frustrating when that happened. He yawned again, shuffling into the bathroom.

A slight frown crossed his features when he caught his reflection in the mirror. His skin was so flushed. But it should not be; it had not been an overly warm night. And he did not feel hot right now. Actually, he felt kind of cold. Oh well, he would warm up soon, he decided as he took up the brush to tame his spikes.

Soon he was making a face in the mirror as his generous black tufts became lodged in the brush's hungry teeth. "Ow," he muttered, reaching with his other hand to disentangle the fluffy substance. His fingers quickly became tied up with it as well, and the brush was left dangling from his hair like a flailing fish on a hook as he worked to pull apart the matted locks.

As he labored, he blinked tired eyes at his reflection, unable to stop from yawning again. Hopefully he would completely wake up again at breakfast. Maybe he could sleep on the train. If he still felt like this by the time they left, he probably would.

Now his spikes were starting to settle back into place. Finally! Taking hold of the brush, he pried the piece of hair away from the bristles and then cautiously began to run the object over the wild mane again. Better not do it too much. His hair looked alright now. Messing more with it could make it go crazy again.

He carried the brush with him back into the bedroom. There was not much to pack, so maybe he would take care of it now. Then it would be done and he would just have to grab his bag after breakfast. Knowing Seph, he was probably already done with packing as well.

Unzipping the duffel bag, he tossed the brush in and followed it up with the toothpaste and toothbrush. He could see them landing on top of the few clothes he had brought, which he had not bothered to remove from the bag. Even though he had thought the mission would not take long, it was always better to be prepared in case one got stuck somewhere for a few days. Offhandly he closed the opening again and grabbed for the sleeveless sweater shirt draped across the back of the chair.

As he pulled it on over his white tanktop, he reached up to remove his hair from where it was caught under the turtleneck collar. It spilled back onto the middle of his shoulder blades, settling into place.

Next he moved forward to his boots, plunging a foot into one and then slipping into the other before fumbling with the laces. He smirked to himself again. At least he was not so tired as to tie the laces all together. Once, he actually had, and then had tried to walk, and Seph had been terribly amused by it when he had realized that Zack had not been hurt by the spill.

Now he straightened up and turned, heading for the door. Seph was probably already downstairs, taking advantage of the free breakfast.

And that sounded really good right now. He smirked more, hearing his stomach growl as he stepped into the hall and shut the doorbehind him. Vending machine food was great, but it did not make a very filling dinner. He would make up for it.

* * *

It was easy to spot Seph once Zack found his way down to the dining room. Long, naturally silver hair was highly uncommon, and the sun was hitting upon it from where the man was seated in a corner with a picture window behind him. Zack grinned, waking up a bit more as he weaved his way around the tables and over to his best friend.

"Didn't think you'd be interested in the view," he greeted as he plopped down across from Seph.

A grunt was his answer, as Seph set down the menu with a gesture indicating boredness. "I thought you might enjoy it," he said, leaning back. "Besides, it's out of the way." He nodded towards a small yelp, and Zack followed his gaze to where a new and clumsy waitress was struggling to balance three trays of food without sending any of them or herself colliding to the floor.

Zack chuckled softly to himself, picking up the menu in front of him. "Poor girl," he said, "and I poor pity anyone sitting under that teetering glass."

He frowned as his gaze traveled over the items of food that were listed. Weird . . . for a minute there, it was like he was seeing everything double. But when he blinked, it all settled back to normal again. Slowly he shook his head.

Maybe he needed some glasses of his own. As long as he had known Seph, the other had always used reading glasses, a fact that seemed to displease Seph on some level. But if that was Zack's problem, then he would not mind doing what needed to be done to fix it.

"Are you alright?"

He looked up again at Seph's inquiry. The green eyes were studying him from behind the glasses' frames, a slight frown gracing the normally aloof features.

"Sure thing," Zack smiled and shrugged. "Why not?"

"You're starting to look flushed."

Zack sighed to himself. Well, of course Seph would notice. Not much escaped him. "It's kinda warm in here," he answered. Which it was, actually—a lot warmer than it had been up in his room. Maybe that was because of all the people down here. Closing the menu, he began to fan himself with it.

Seph nodded slowly, but he did not look convinced.

"Hey," Zack said, forcing cheerfulness onto his tired tongue, "I'm just fine, Seph. Just kinda worn out after yesterday."

"I can imagine." Seph removed his glasses, folding them and placing them in his pocket. He was not going to press the issue, even though he was still concerned. Zack was probably right, anyway—but telling himself that did nothing to change his feelings. The brunet looked as though he could be coming down with something.

"Did you call the clinic?" Zack wondered. If Seph had, he did not seem worried because of anything he had learned there. Maybe the doc had confirmed again that Zack was okay.

Sephiroth nodded again. "Nothing looked amiss," he reported.

"Then see?" Zack rocked back, spreading his arms. "I'm fit as a fiddle." Which was a pretty weird expression, when he thought about it. Why not a piano? Or a guitar? Maybe it had something to do with a violin being lightweight. But it still sounded odd.

"Hopefully." Seph seemed to be in a pessimistic mood today. But of course it was just that he was concerned.

"So . . . what time does the train leave?" Zack asked, anxious to change the subject.

Seph glanced at the clock on the wall to their side. "In about two hours," he said. "We have plenty of time to eat and get to the station."

"Are the people doing okay after the attack?" Zack wanted to know. Today, other SOLDIERs were supposed to arrive to take their place and make certain that nothing else went wrong. Seph and Zack, meanwhile, were to return to Midgar and pursue the poison angle. After the bodies were tested, they might find themselves returning here. This town was not too far away from Shinra headquarters, but far enough that a train was the quickest way back.

"They seem to be," Seph replied. "I checked on them before the other SOLDIERs got here. They've gone back to work as usual." He gave Zack a searching look. "I thought you would want to join me, but I couldn't get you to wake up before I left. You mumbled something unintelligible and went back to sleep."

Zack blinked. "Yeah? I don't remember that." He grinned sheepishly. "Man, I must've really conked out."

"You did," Seph grunted.

Zack stretched, placing his arms over his head as he saw the waiter coming towards the table. Quickly he lowered them again. He and Seph gave their orders, and then waited for the man to leave before resuming their conversation.

"So . . . do you really think some idiot will try to hijack the train and get these guys' bodies?" Zack crossed his arms on the table. If it was not for that possibility, he and Seph might simply remain here and wait for information from Shinra's forensic and poison experts. But they were needed on the train, just in case the dead men had friends who knew about what had happened the previous day. If so, the friends would likely not want the corpses to be taken by Shinra.

"I don't know," Seph said. "It's wise to be prepared."

Zack nodded. "Yeah . . . true."

"Are you hoping for some action?"

Zack grinned. "Well . . . I dunno. Maybe not today. Yesterday was pretty action-packed."

"That it was," Seph agreed, leaning back. "Maybe nothing out of the ordinary will happen today."

* * *

It was amazing, how much more exhausted Zack became over the course of the next two hours. The food kept him awake for a while, but traveling to the station was extremely wearying, especially lifting that heavy duffel bag. Actually, it was not supposed to have that much in it, but as he dragged it on his back, along with his sword, it all seemed to weigh a ton.

By the time he and Seph were finally on the train and it was starting, he felt as if he had been lifting weights for hours.

"I'll be glad to get home," he declared, slumping back against the seat as he glanced out the window. The vehicle was picking up speed now, and the buildings and trees were starting to fly past.

"It might not be for very long," Seph reminded.

"Yeah. . . . But even a couple days there would be nice." Zack reached up, rubbing at his eyes. All the yawning he had been doing was making them start to water. And he was starting to feel so dizzy, for some reason. Maybe he was suffering from fatigue. He and Seph had both been working pretty hard lately, putting down rebellions and uprisings and all that. And some of the paperwork took a long time too.

But surely Seph had been pushing himself harder than Zack did. That was the way it always was. And yet he looked okay.

"Zack . . ."

Huh? Seph was saying something? He sounded so far away. . . . Why was that? He was just sitting on the other side of the window. Zack turned, blinking as he tried to face the other. His stubborn vision was not cooperating!

"Zack, you're not well." Four Sephs were getting up and starting to walk across the space in their booth, heading towards him.

He blinked again. That was too weird! Why wouldn't the extra Sephs go away? He knew that there was only one. "I'm fine, Seph," he said, his words coming out halting and garbled. At least, it sounded like that to him. Why was he having so much trouble speaking? Was he that tired? . . . Maybe there really was something wrong. . . .

The four Sephs finally blended into the one real Seph as he sat down beside Zack. Pulling off his left glove, he reached up and touched his cold hand to Zack's forehead. His eyes immediately narrowed. "You're burning up," he breathed.

Zack moaned at the contact. "Hey . . . your hand's like ice," he mumbled, trying to bat Seph's hand away. Maybe he was sick. He should rest. If he could just lay down on the seat. . . . He slumped forward against Seph's strong form. He could feel the other's heart beating. It was a calm, rhythmic sound . . . something that could lull him to sleep. . . . Like back home, when he had listened to the rain on the roof. . . . His eyes drifted shut.

Somewhere in this web of confusion, Sephiroth gripped Zack's shoulders. "Zack!" he called, his tone commanding. Zack needed to stay awake, if at all possible. But judging from his limp body, that was going to be difficult. Whatever was wrong, it was coming to a head fast.

The lavender eyes opened again, but only partway. "This isn't my room," said Zack, his voice slurred. He looked to Sephiroth, the glassiness obvious. "Who are you, anyway? Does Dad know you're here?"

Sephiroth drew back, his heart twisting as an arrow slammed into it. Now he was ten times more concerned. Zack was not only feverish and swooning; he was delirious.

Sephiroth had only seen something such as this once or twice in the past. It had been agonizing enough when it had been one of the boys he commanded, someone who looked up to him as a teacher and a leader. He had felt so helpless, so powerless to do a thing to lessen the young man's anguish, except to stand by and try to reassure him in a quiet, kind voice that all would be well. He never had known if his presence had done any good. The SOLDIER had passed away shortly afterwards.

On one occasion, he had witnessed Genesis in such a state as well. That had been even more alarming and uncomfortable, considering how close he had thought they had been. Genesis had ranted and raved as a crazy man, grabbing at Sephiroth without recognizing him and trying desperately to get out of bed. Sephiroth had been forced to do everything in his power to keep him down, to the point of physical restraint. Angeal, away on a mission, had not been there to help. The experience had drained Sephiroth immensely, though he always refused to acknowledge just how much. But the phrase _delirious_, and all that came with it, had ever since left a particular bad taste in his mouth.

Now he was once again seeing it happen to a dear friend.

Without answering Zack's queries, he looked over at the bewildered passengers. They were mostly staring with wide eyed shock, but one or two simply bore pokerfaces, as if the situation did not bother them in the least. Sephiroth did not care in the least about them, either.

"Is there a doctor on board?" he demanded gruffly. "This man has taken seriously ill."

A tall man in the back, with thinning hair, got to his feet. "I'm a physician," he announced as he began to walk over to them. "I'm on my way back to my practice in Midgar after a short vacation."

Sephiroth really could not care less why the man was there. All that mattered was that he was there. He eased his body into a standing position, still holding onto Zack's shoulders, and then gently laid him down on the seat. The lavender eyes blinked at him, puzzled and blank. Zack was in another world.

"Man . . . I gotta get up," he mumbled. "Mom'll be worried. . . ."

"She wouldn't want you to force yourself up if you're not feeling well," Sephiroth answered. For now, the best thing he could do would be to play along. Trying to tell Zack what was actually going on would not help.

"Yeah, guess so. . . ." Zack squinted up at him. "Who did you say you are again?"

Sephiroth hesitated. The prick he felt at the question would have to be pushed back. He would never let on how much it pained him. "I'm . . . a friend," he said at last. "And I've brought a doctor to examine you."

"Oh. . . ." Zack hissed in pain. "Does Mom know?"

What could be said to that? ". . . No, I don't think she does yet. Maybe you'll be feeling better before she comes back."

"Hope so. . . ." Zack grinned weakly. "Hey, you're a nice guy. Maybe when I'm feeling better, we can hang out or something."

"Maybe." Sephiroth glanced to the doctor before stepping aside. "Here's the doctor."

"Okay." Zack winced again, then tried to look up at the older man. "So, you're gonna find out what's screwed up?"

"That's right," the physician nodded. "At least, I hope to get an idea of it." He knelt down, studying the ill SOLDIER. "How long have you been feeling unwell?"

Zack gave a weak shrug. "Woke up like this," he responded. "Mom was right, I stayed out too long in the rain. Now she'll worry that I've caught pneumonia or something."

Sephiroth frowned, shaking his head. This would not get them anywhere. "He's remembering something from his past," he said in a low tone.

"I see. . . ." The doctor looked as though he was going to ask Zack another question, but the other was starting to close his eyes again, slipping back into semi-consciousness.

"You won't learn anything from him right now," Sephiroth grunted. "Let him rest." Anyway, he did not know how much longer he could stand listening to Zack at this point. Just last night he had been happy and cheerful, buying snacks for them at the vending machine. And now . . . to see him like this . . .

He should not be letting it affect him so deeply. Usually he could turn off the pain and lock it away where even he was unaware of it. But for some reason, he could not make his mind do that this time. This was causing an open wound in his heart, and it was tearing further with each passing moment.

The physician nodded. "Yes, that would be best." He reached out, taking hold of Zack's wrist to check his pulse. "Has he previously shown any signs of illness?" he asked, glancing back up at the stern man towering above him.

"He's been unusually tired all morning," was the reply. Sephiroth crossed his arms as he observed, his emotions hidden behind the emerald eyes.

The physician nodded, laying Zack's hand gently on his chest. "His pulse is irregular," he admitted. "It's going faster than normal, almost double the rate it should. And it's still going up." His frown deepened as he noticed the bandage. "What's this?"

"He was wounded in a fight yesterday," Sephiroth answered, and briefly summarized the events of their mission. "The physician determined that it was only a superficial injury and that he would be fine." His own eyes narrowed further. "At the time, I wondered if he might have been poisoned. And after I saw his behavior today, it crossed my mind again."

"It's highly possible, I'm afraid," was the grim admission. The older man shook his head. "In fact, that seems the most likely. His symptoms match with the reactions to some kinds of poison." His tone turned regretful. "And unfortunately, I don't have any way to treat for poisoning here. First we would need to find out what kind it is . . . if it can even be traced." He looked up at the SOLDIER, seeing the tight grip on the muscular arms.

"And if not?"

The doctor gave a sad sigh. "I'm afraid we both know that answer already."

It was an answer Sephiroth would not accept. "I'm going to call for a medical team," he growled, turning away. "They'll be waiting when we arrive at Midgar."

"That's a good idea," the physician said to the retreating back.

He glanced back down at the semi-conscious Zack. The eyes were half-open and glazed as they stared at nothing. Breath was coming in short, quick gasps.

"Hang in there, boy," the doctor said quietly. "You're too young to die."


	3. So Far From You

**Percentage of New Content: 5**

**Chapter Three**

Sephiroth's mind was tumbling over itself as he waited for someone to pick up the phone. Zack had never been so ill before. It was still possible that it was some kind of virus, especially since one had been going around the base for a while. But it was more likely that it was poison. It would certainly make sense as to why those men had accepted death last night with such a smug air. They had probably been inwardly laughing at the thought of Zack soon passing on as well. It was infuriating and outrageous!

"Shinra Headquarters. How may I direct your call?"

He snapped back to attention. "This is SOLDIER First Class Sephiroth," he barked. "Zack Fair and I are en route to Midgar on the noon train. He has collapsed with a fever and is delirious. I want a medical team to meet us in Midgar."

"Of course, General Sephiroth." The receptionist immediately sounded concerned. "Are there any special instructions for the medics?"

"Commander Fair may have been poisoned." Sephiroth's voice was as ice. "And it may be hard to trace." Considering the people with whom they had been dealing, it seemed only too likely.

The receptionist gasped in alarm. "I'll have them notified immediately," she promised.

"Good. We should arrive in fifteen minutes." With that Sephiroth hung up and folded his phone. He was not in the mood to talk about what had happened. He wanted to get back to where Zack was laying.

Yet in another way, he did not want to do so-if Zack would still be delirious and would still not even recognize him. But he was still the same Zack, really-trusting Sephiroth when he had said that he was a friend, and not fighting against the doctor. Which would be more disturbing-for him to be irrationally violent, whether or not he remembered Sephiroth, or for him to be calm without remembering?

Both were disturbing. But it would certainly be more difficult if he took up his sword and tried to attack. As it was, even if he still got to that point, he was too ill to move.

A fist clenched. Sephiroth made an about-face, brushing past a man talking on his own phone. Next to him on the floor was his briefcase, which was adorned with a strange symbol. The offhand thought crossed Sephiroth's mind that it resembled a globe being clutched in a veined hand.

The man's eyes bored into Sephiroth's back as he walked away.

Had it been foolish of him, to not insist on further testing? In spite of what those idiots had done to themselves, he had thought that Zack was surely alright when the medics had not found anything wrong. That could mean that the poison was untraceable, or it could have simply been that the search had not been extensive enough. Either way, he had hoped that any concerns had been unfounded.

Zack would tell him that he could not have known, that he would not have had any reason to believe that anything was wrong. Logically, that was true. And he certainly could not spend time being upset over other things he could have done. Zack needed him now. And if he had been poisoned, then Sephiroth would have to do everything he could to find the solution.

The doctor was still monitoring Zack's condition when he returned. Lavender eyes stared up at the ceiling, glazed over, and a weak moan slid through the dry lips. The skin was still red, but the color was beginning to fade to a ghostly shade.

"The medical team will be there," Sephiroth said, his tone cold. "How is he?"

"He's getting worse," the physician admitted, "but he tried to speak again a moment ago. He was asking for 'Seph'?" He blinked curiously at the warrior. He did not know who the two SOLDIERs were, but of course he had heard of Sephiroth, Shinra's favored general. The thought, however, of bestowing a nickname upon such a serious and stern man seemed ludicrous.

Sephiroth did not bother to give him any kind of an explanation. Their friendship, and Zack's quirks, was hardly information the doctor needed to know. He came closer, and the older man moved aside to give them space.

"Zack?" he asked, bending down into the lavender line of vision.

The eyes blinked, and for a moment something cleared. A certain relief washed over Sephiroth, to see the recognition that had previously been absent. But he could not get his hopes up. Zack might drift back and forth between periods of awareness and delusions. That was how it had been with Genesis.

"Hey, Seph." Zack tried to grin, but his lips did not cooperate very far. "Looks like I got really messed up, huh? Guess you were right . . . about me not feeling well. . . ."

Sephiroth grunted, kneeling down by the side of the plush seat. "We're going to be in Midgar in a few minutes," he said. "You're going to be just fine." That was the only thing that could be true. Perishing was unacceptable!

"What's . . . wrong with me?" Zack winced. "My arm . . . it's hurting like heck."

Another indication of the problem. And a quick examination of the bandage showed that now a bit of crimson was leaking through.

"It's not clear yet what's wrong," Sephiroth admitted. "You may have been poisoned after all."

"Ow . . . that's not good." Zack fell silent, contemplating this information. The pieces of hair framing either side of his face now were clinging to the clammy cheeks.

"It's probably a pretty rare poison, if those rumors about the scientist are true," he said at last.

"Don't try to talk," Sephiroth snapped in response. But Zack did not need to say more. Both he and Sephiroth knew exactly what he meant. "Whatever is wrong, we'll find the cure."

". . . I feel like I might be going pretty fast, Seph. . . ."

Anger and helplessness washed over the silver-haired warrior. This was not happening. They had been in so many tight situations before, but they had always managed to come out alive and well-or at least, recovering. Death was something he had already seen so much of, and had dealt out to others. It was the life he and Zack had both chosen, each knowing the possible consequences. But that did not make this any easier.

"You've endured it this long," he said, aware that his voice had taken on an even harsher tone.

"Maybe . . . it's only slow-acting until you really start being able to feel it's there," Zack mused, his voice not much above a whisper. "Maybe that means it's getting complete hold. . . ."

"_You_ get hold!" In desperation Sephiroth grabbed at Zack's unaffected shoulder. "You're supposed to be the optimistic one, and yet you're talking about your death as if it's almost a certain thing!"

Zack smiled weakly. "I thought death didn't usually bother you, Seph. . . ."

"It doesn't. Usually."

Another spasm of pain shot through Zack's right arm. He gave a brief start before slumping back into the cushioning. "It's not like . . . I'm giving up," he managed to choke out. The poison was trying to drag him under. If he succumbed, he might never gain the surface again. But he would probably sink into unconsciousness anyway. . . . Actually, he could feel it happening without him even being able to give permission. But he could not pass out just yet. There was still something he needed to say.

"Hey . . . I'm gonna hang on, Seph," he said. His left hand shook as he reached up to gently swat at his friend's shoulder. "You know I won't let that poison beat me if I can help it."

Sephiroth never had a chance to reply.

Zack's eyes rolled back into his head, the weary lids closing as if to signify the end of an era. His arm dropped limply onto Sephiroth's outstretched limb, the hand of which had still been grasping Zack's shoulder.

A shiver ran up the bigger man's spine as the appendage landed there. Zack looked so eerily still now, yet he was breathing. His chest was rising and falling, though with a pained motion. And it was going to stay that way. He was not going to die. He was going to get better.

Taking hold of the motionless arm by the wrist, Sephiroth carefully moved it to lay on Zack's chest, next to his other hand. At the same moment, he felt the train lurch and halt. They had arrived.

* * *

It was what they had feared, or worse.

He gripped his upper arms as he leaned against the door of Zack's infirmary room. They had not wanted him in there, but he had insisted. Zack's condition was not contagious, but even if it was, Sephiroth still would have demanded to be allowed to see him. Who had more of a right to be there other than himself? Shinra was attempting to contact Zack's parents, but so far they had not been able to get through. And Zack should not have to be alone, when he needed someone more than ever.

For hours Sephiroth had been going through the waiting room, pacing, standing by the window, sometimes going outside. They had been running tests all that time, most not turning up anything that was not already known or suspected. The afternoon had passed, and the evening had mostly been spent by now as well.

It was so wrong, to see Zack laying so helpless and still in the bed. Zack should still be happy and cheerful, joking with Sephiroth and enjoying his pal's company. He should never be like this. . . . He had come to again, briefly, when the medics had been laying him on a stretcher. But the delirium had fogged his mind once more, and he had not recognized Sephiroth. And now . . . now he was deeply unconscious. The doctors were not certain if he would ever wake up.

The heart monitor was beeping even more quickly and loud than usual. Zack's pulse had never come down, and with every passing hour, it seemed to only increase more. He was dying.

Sephiroth could still hear that deplorable word being spoken by the grim physician. He hated it, abhorred it. He cursed its existence and what it meant for Zack's life.

_Poison._

Now they knew that the sword Zack had been cut with the previous day had been brushed with a slow-acting substance that was currently raging through his body. It was a rare poison, and very hard to detect, which was why the medics in the other town had missed it. No one had actually believed that something so deadly would be used on him. When he had checked out fine, they had thought it was true. And now . . . now, if the antidote could not be gained in the next several hours, it would be too late.

But where could they even get it? The ones who knew where the substance had come from were dead, and their names were not even known yet! The pathologist said that she was still working on it and that it could take several more hours, or even days, for the records to come through. And that was time that they did not have! Zack needed help_now!_

The poison the men had killed themselves with was being tested too, but it was not likely that it was related to the substance that had been used on Zack-judging by the extensively varying time periods between deaths. And they had not been carrying any other kinds of poison. They did not want the secret to saving Zack to be learned.

He stared into the pale face, his own visage blank. Zack's eyes were closed, an expression of pain gracing his silent features. It was agonizing to look at him. Green eyes looked away again.

For the umpteenth time, the doctor's next words turned over in his mind.

_"You're asking for an exact estimate on how much time he has left. . . . I'm afraid that there's no way to know for certain. But at the rate his life is deteriorating, I would calculate no more than twenty-four hours from the time the poison entered his body."_

And that time was fast approaching. It had been very late at night when he and Zack had been fighting those men. But Sephiroth did not have an exact estimate. The twenty-four hour mark was probably less than five hours away, but it could be a bit more or less.

Five hours before the only light in his life would go out.

How could he simply stand here and watch Zack's life slip away?! He had to do something! If he only knew what to do. . . .

Swiftly turning, he opened the door and walked into the hallway. There was an Exit door at the end of it, and he began to walk toward it, every footstep deliberate and determined. He could go back to that town. He could search blindly for anyone who might have known those fanatics. It was probable that he would get into a lot of trouble along the way. But that did not worry him in the least. What worried him was that he might go on a wild goose chase and not even be able to find the antidote.

At least he could look through the building where the situation had taken place. If he left right now, he could still make it and get back in time. Zack would have to hold on until then, and then continue to do so. He had to get better!

It had been so difficult for him to restrain his fury when the physician had admitted that the antidote was not known and that it could take those in the laboratory many hours to determine what it was.

_"It had better not take 'many' hours," Sephiroth had growled, his tones dark and filled with warnings. "We don't have 'many' hours. We only have time up to the point where Zack's body will give out completely. Aren't your scientists supposed to be the best? Surely they can find the answer within that time schedule."_

_The older man had sighed, shaking his head in sympathy. "They're still only men, General. I'll be honest with you . . . to save Commander Fair's life, we need a miracle."_

A miracle? Did such things even exist? From his experiences, it certainly did not seem that they did.

Pushing open the heavy door, he stepped out into the cold Midgar night. The air slapped him in the face harshly, as if scolding him for his unbelief. Glaring at the invisible force, he walked forward, heading for the parking lot. He would take the Jeep and drive to the train station. If there was not another train leaving that night, he would exercise his authority to make it happen. It would be impossible to take the Jeep over the steep and rocky trails in the wilderness, especially in the dark. He would only end up with punctured tires. Or worse.

On the subject of miracles, he had been raised in a laboratory, tortured and experimented on with frequency, and rarely allowed to do what he wanted. Oh yes, he had certainly seen "miracles"; the fact that he had not died on the operating table when they had installed his wing was a "miracle". He had been conscious throughout most of it, without even the kindness of an anesthetic.

Hojo considered the entire process a "miracle" of science. That was a "miracle" Sephiroth could do without.

If either he or Zack was going to die now, why would it be Zack? He had heard that it was the best people who died young, and the bitter and cold who lived long lives. It sounded like something a pessimist had probably said, and honestly, so much of the time it seemed that it was true. Maybe the gods wanted the best in order to make their homes more pleasant. They probably had very little interest in the pessimists. And then by taking away the ones whom the pessimists cared for, they insured that those left behind became even more bitter and cold.

Here was the Jeep. He hauled open the door, threw himself inside, and started the engine, all in one motion. He had a probable time of less than five hours to save his dear friend. And he would see that it was enough. He would not lose Zack.


	4. Burning On

**Percentage of New Content: 100**

**Chapter Four**

Pulheim was dark and largely deserted this late at night. Only a handful of people rode the late train with Sephiroth, and upon arrival, they were reluctant to part company with the SOLDIER General. That was understandable, considering what had happened only last night. And if they knew what had become of Zack, they would be even more uneasy. But they would likely be safe . . . unless, of course, some strange person decided to hold them hostage at the train station because of Sephiroth's presence. That, however, did not happen.

He observed for a moment as the passengers began to go their separate ways. None were heading in the direction which he needed to travel. He turned, leaving the platform as he walked down the darkened streets. The Masamune was at his side, ready in case there was trouble. And there might be.

The office building still bore lights in some of the windows. Sephiroth approached it with cold eyes. The door was locked, but access was easy for him. He only needed to use his Shinra identification card and type a number into the pad at the side. Which he did. The doors slid open.

His footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as he stepped inside. It was right here in the lobby that the fight had taken place. Zack had battled his opponent over there, and it was by this wall that the other one had run into Sephiroth's sword. The blood had been cleaned up now, but the memories lingered.

That was all that remained of the past events—memories. The janitors who had mopped up the gore had been very thorough. If any clues had been left, now they were gone. And the hostages would not have come to work today. They had been told to stay at their homes and recover. Sephiroth had the list with their names. They had already been questioned, but they had not seemed to know anything that Sephiroth and Zack had not noticed themselves. Though that was before Zack had come down so ill. In light of the drastic turn of events, maybe they should be interrogated again.

He glanced at his watch. It would also take a long time, time that he did not have. Was there any other option? Would he be able to find the janitors for the building? Some of them should be on duty now. He moved ahead, turning a corner.

There was one now, getting off of the elevator. Upon seeing the General, the man's eyes widened.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "General, sir! Is there a problem?"

Sephiroth opted to not give a direct answer to the question. "Were you on duty last night?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," he nodded. "Terrible thing that happened here, it was."

"Did you find anything strange when you were cleaning up the blood?"

The custodian blinked. "Well, sir, blood itself is pretty strange to be finding on the floor of an office building," he said.

Sephiroth's eyes flashed. "I don't have time for this," he snapped. "Did you find anything else?"

The older man winced. If this was not the General's legendary and rare anger, it must be close to it. And he did not want to tread with folly and bring down any wrath upon himself.

"No, sir!" was the reply. "Neither of us did. Were you looking for something specific?"

"Anything at all that would be a clue as to where those men came from or who they might be working for," Sephiroth said, his tone clipped.

"Well, there sure wasn't anything like that, not even a . . ." The eyes widened again. "Oh my!" he exclaimed. "I remember now, there was a bit of something. Just a little piece of paper. I was going to give it to the SOLDIERs who came today, but then I forgot all about it, and I haven't spoken to them yet, anyway. . . ."

"Do you have it?" Sephiroth stared the other down, his green eyes boring into the janitor's soul.

"I think so, sir," he said. "I should, anyway, since I didn't remember to have done anything with it." He sorted through his pockets, at least producing a water-logged, rectangular business card. "Here it is!"

Sephiroth took it, frowning at the smeared ink. At least it was not so bad that he could not read it. It was the name and address of a storage unit in the town, and it looked like something else had been scribbled in pencil, maybe the number of the rebels' container. What would they be storing? It seemed a ridiculous place to keep their poisons. But he would have to go there anyway and see what was being stored.

He looked up. "You've been very helpful," he said.

"Oh, I'm glad to oblige, General sir," was the response.

Sephiroth turned, heading for the door.

* * *

Bill's Storage was located near a small lake. As Sephiroth approached, the sound of the lapping waves was very clear in the near distance. Looking beyond the side of the buildings, the glint of the water could be seen due to the reflections of the moon and of the lights along the docks. The white and orange beams jumped lazily across the surface.

The front office was obviously closed, its proprietor gone home for the night. But Sephiroth would go right to the compartment he wanted and inspect it. If necessary, he would find the owner and ask for the key. Or he would enter himself and consider it important military business. Which it was.

He walked among the low and wide buildings, again studying the number. To the best of his knowledge as he tried to see through the waterstains, it was a thirteen. How appropriate. And as he drew near to where it should be, the sound of boxes being moved was unmistakable. He was not alone.

Narrowing his eyes, he pressed himself against the wall and slowly looked around the corner. Number thirteen was open. His grip on the Masamune tightened as he walked forward, keeping to the shadows. His footsteps were light, barely audible even to him.

The occupant was near the doorway, looking into boxes before shoving them aside. He did not have any idea that anyone else was there. And he was dressed similar to the men from last night.

Hatred began to well in Sephiroth's heart. Did this person know about the plot? Had he been involved? Was it partially because of him that Zack was laying in a Shinra medical center, his life being taken from him?

In a flash he was beside the other, bringing the Masamune to the man's throat. "Stand up slowly," he demanded, his tone frozen, "and turn to face me."

The person stiffened. But as he began to turn, the wicked delight was obvious in his eyes. "General Sephiroth," he sneered. "You're alone tonight. Did your young friend have other, more important things to do with his time?" The devious smile widened. "Such as dying?"

The pupils shrank to pinpricks. Sephiroth held the blade steady, the blood starting to boil in his veins. "What do you know about it?" he queried.

"You know all that you're going to learn," was the smirked reply. "Isn't it interesting? That even SOLDIERs are not all-powerful? Your precious Zack Fair will lie cold and still before long, once the poison has run its course. He'll look like he's sleeping, won't he? But no matter how you try to wake him, you won't be able to. And then you'll know that the time of the SOLDIERs' just desserts has come."

Sephiroth snapped. With one strong hand he seized the startled rebel and shoved him against the wall. "Where is the antidote?" His voice was dark, filled with the rage that was overflowing to the surface. "Tell me where it is!"

For a moment, fear flashed through the coward's eyes. But then his expression twisted again. "It isn't here," he said with glee. "If it exists at all. The poison is experimental, and Zack Fair is the first victim."

Sephiroth barely acknowledged the taunt. "There's always an antidote," he said, his voice chilled. "Where is it? Who has it?"

Something about the deadly look in his eyes made the terrorist falter. But then he laughed. "I don't even know myself," he said. "Only those on the higher levels have the information. And you won't be finding any of them."

The green-eyed look was poisonous. "How do you know the antidote isn't here?" he demanded. "What's in these boxes?"

"Something like that wouldn't be kept here," was the answer. "All that's here is a bunch of guns." He smiled. "And there's others in storage at other places. It's all planned out just so, don't you think?" A pause. "That's all you'll get from me. You won't be taking me in to be questioned by those Shinra dogs."

Sephiroth saw the glint of metal before he could do anything about it. The knife plunged into its owner's chest. The cruel smirk was the last act the treacherous man committed. To treat a SOLDIER in this way was what delighted him more than anything else. He never stopped to think or care that he had been behaving in the same treacherous way that he had accused the SOLDIERs of acting.

Sephiroth could only stare as the body slumped to the floor. Thoughts would not even come. Under his glove, his knuckles were turning white as he clutched the hilt of his weapon.

Part of him wanted to scream, to raise the sword and plunge it into the devilish form. Another part wanted to find anyone connected with this conspiracy and kill them all for what they had done, what they were doing right now. But none of that would help Zack.

He ran a shaking hand over his face. He had to calm himself.

Pushing the corpse onto its back with his foot, he knelt down and began to go through the pockets. Nothing was there, just as was the case with the other bodies. These people wanted to make sure that they remained nameless to Shinra.

He straightened up, looking to the boxes. Was what had been said about their contents correct as well? Crossing the space between him and them, he peered into the top one. It was filled with straw, and amongst it, gleaming black guns. Nothing unusual was hidden inside the barrels, either, such as capsules or vials. What he saw was what he got. And the other boxes were the same.

He stepped back, staring at the scene. There was little more he could do here.

Despair began to eclipse all other feelings. He was helpless. He was trying to follow a trail that had been brushed over and obscured. Possibly he could learn something useful, but only after many days or weeks of painstaking research. And that would be too late to save Zack.

It would take a miracle, indeed.

* * *

Zack really did not know where he was. Everything was such a fog in his mind, but vaguely through it all, the heart monitor was beeping away. It was so fast. . . . It felt like his heart was going to thump right out of his chest. A weak moan escaped his lips. He wanted to sink away from it all.

And then it all faded out again. But this was not oblivion—dark and cold and friendless. He was sitting in an office, a very familiar office. One he had not been in for some time. And its owner was bent over the desk, intent on his writing.

Zack could only stare. "Angeal?!" he cried. "Angeal, is it really you?!"

The writer looked up. It was Angeal, just as Zack had always remembered. He had not changed.

The older man set the pen down. "You've gotten yourself into a pretty bad situation," he said.

Zack leaped up, running over to the desk. "I know I did, but . . . but how are you here?!" he exclaimed. "How come I'm here with you? The last thing I remember is feeling really sick and collapsing on the train or something." He frowned.

Angeal nodded. "You're dying, Zack," he said seriously, looking into his friend's eyes.

"Dying?" Zack swallowed, taking a step back. But . . . he could not die. He did not want to. And Seph . . . Seph would be so heartbroken. He had lost his other friends. To lose Zack, especially now . . .

"Right now you're in a kind of limbo," Angeal explained. "Sephiroth is trying to find the antidote for the poison you were given."

"Antidote? Poison?" Zack stared at his old friend. "If Seph's out looking, getting mixed up with all those monsters, then he might get hurt! I have to get to him, Angeal! I have to!"

Angeal rose, placing his hands firmly on Zack's shoulders. "What you have to do," he said, "is to work on getting better. Getting yourself stressed is not going to help. Your heart's already going almost double the speed it should. And it's only getting worse."

"It is?" Zack blinked. It felt normal here. But . . . somewhere in the distance, it was still racing. He could hear that heart monitor going crazy.

Angeal nodded. He leaned back, smiling a bit. "You and Sephiroth have gotten pretty close," he said.

Zack smiled a bit too. "Yeah . . . we have," he agreed. "Seph's a great guy." His eyes widened. "Of course, we both miss you like crazy," he hurried on, not wanting Angeal to think for one moment that he had been forgotten.

"I know," Angeal assured him. "I miss both of you too."

"Why did you have to leave, Angeal?!" Zack burst out suddenly. "You acted like SOLDIER and Shinra were so terrible and that you had to get out, but . . . why couldn't you stay and try to make them better? We could've tried together. . . ." He trailed off, seeing Angeal shaking his head.

"It wouldn't have worked, Zack," he said. "It won't work. They were secretly corrupt from the beginning. They've been using all of us. And that's the way it's going to stay."

"But . . ." Zack's shoulders slumped. "That'd mean that everything Seph and I are doing is in vain." He frowned, clenching a fist. "Was it right for those creeps to hold people hostage, just because they work for Shinra?" he cried.

"Of course not." Angeal gave Zack a firm look. "This is a selfish world we live in, Zack. You're one of the few who's different, and you're in a position to change things everywhere. You and Sephiroth are fighting against the selfishness and the cruelty that exists." He sighed. "Both of you are also in a very awkward situation. If you ever decided to leave, like I did, you'd be chased all over Gaia with prices on your lives. And would you be able to do much good that way?"

Zack bit his lip. "Probably not," he said.

"Remember what I taught you," Angeal told him.

Zack tried to grin. "Never let go of my dreams, right?"

Angeal nodded. "And your pride as a SOLDIER. I know you'll keep fighting, Zack."

"Yeah . . ." The beeping seemed to have gotten even faster. "But can I really pull through this one, Angeal?" Zack stared at his mentor. "I mean . . . what if Seph can't find the antidote?" Zack had complete faith in his friend, of course. But he knew how these treacherous people operated. They would not make it easy to gain the one thing that would provide recovery for a SOLDIER.

"Just leave that up to him," Angeal answered. "Your job is to stay alive until he gets back. Alright?"

Zack nodded. "Do you have to go, Angeal?" he asked, regret in his voice. Even if this was not real . . . even if it was only in his mind . . . he did not want to say goodbye. Not again.

Angeal smiled slightly. "And leave you in this mess? I'll be here," he said. "Just talk to me if you want."

Zack brightened. "You bet!" he declared.

In reality, the nurse in the room was trying to make Zack more comfortable. His fever was high, and no matter what they tried, it seemed impossible to bring it down. He had been delirious for some time, calling off and on for both Seph and Angeal. Now, as she glanced at the patient, she blinked in surprise. A soft smile was on Zack's features for a moment before his expression faded back to agony.

Whatever he was imagining must be pleasant. And considering what was likely coming, it only made it so much more melancholy, to see him relaxed.

The nurse bit her lip, tears pricking her eyes as she replaced the ice pack on his forehead. She did not want to see Commander Fair die. And she knew General Sephiroth would never want to, either. It would be devastating for him.


	5. Are You Near Me?

**Notes: Kudos to anyone who recognizes where the inspiration for Androssy's company logo came from!**

**Percentage of New Content: 25**

**Chapter Five**

Zack was getting worse.

That was what the doctors had told him as soon as he had gotten back. Somehow he was still struggling for life, but it looked to be a futile battle. His body was simply giving out, and there was no way to turn the tides. The scientists had not been able to learn enough about the poison to construct their own antidote, and they were doubtful that they could do so while Zack was yet alive.

Sephiroth steeled himself for what he would see as he pushed open the door to his friend's room. He had seen so many SOLDIERs dying through the years. It was always difficult, but he could manage to push aside his sickened feelings when it was anyone else.

The sight of Zack laying so still and cold was not something he could shove into his heart and seal there. He gripped the doorknob, his hand vaguely shaking. Zack looked near-death right now. How could he just stay here, waiting for the poison to overwhelm his friend? How could he leave, when there was nothing he could do?

Somehow, almost against his will, his body moved forward, his legs carrying him to the bedside. "Zack . . ." He reached out, laying his hand on the sleeve of the dark purple robe Zack was wearing. He could feel the wires underneath, the ones that were protruding from Zack's arm. His eyes narrowed as he pulled his hand away. He should not do anything that might disturb them. And it felt uncomfortable, to realize that they were there and why they were there.

Zack did not react to the touch. Most likely, he did not feel a thing.

More than anything, Sephiroth wanted Zack to wake up, to smile . . . even to tease him. . . . Just to know he would be fine. . . .

What if he never did wake up? What if he slipped away, all because of this poison? What if he could have been saved, if Sephiroth only knew how to go about it? If he died, would it be because Sephiroth had not tried hard enough?

"I know you'll keep fighting," he said at last. "You'll battle for life until your body can't take it any more. Maybe even beyond that."

By now he only had approximately three hours. And that was just a rough estimate. It could be more, but what was more likely was that it was less.

Without Zack, his life would be bleak. He would return to the way he had been when Zack had decided to befriend him, aloof and alone. And he would be far less willing to let anyone in. He had lost Genesis and Angeal to betrayal. To lose Zack to death would be heartwrenching, maybe even moreso now because of what he had already suffered. No one could take Zack's place, or even begin to try filling it.

Zack meant everything to him.

And Zack wanted to stay just as much as Sephiroth wanted him to. If that would be taken away from them . . .

"Sir?"

He looked up. A doctor and a nurse had come in, both looking somber.

"Would you wait outside for a few moments?" the physician asked. "We need to try a few more things."

Ordinarily Sephiroth might have objected. But he could not stand to watch Zack in that condition. And maybe, if he was outside and away from all of this, he could clear his mind enough to come up with a solution. It was unlikely, when he had tried and tried, wracking his brain until he was nearly going mad. But he had to keep trying. Zack was not giving up. And Sephiroth would not, either.

He walked out of the room, casting a last glance over his shoulder. Zack's position had not altered one bit.

What if this was the last time he would see Zack alive?

No, he would not accept such thoughts!

Soon he was outside, the cold night air slapping against his face. He did not know where he would go. But he started walking anyway, his long hair flowing behind him.

This was an impossible case. He had called the SOLDIERs in Pulheim to take care of the body and confiscate the weapons. And they had not found any leads, either. The crates the guns had been stored within were blank. There was not an indication of where they had come from or who had made them. And of course, the serial numbers on the weapons had all been scratched away. For now, all that they could do was to wait and see if anyone else would try to come to the storage unit, either to get some of the guns or to look for the man who had committed suicide.

Something else that would take time.

_Time!_ Why was there never enough of it? When it was needed so gravely was when it slipped away all the more.

And speaking of miracles, where was God in all of this? If there was a God at all.

He looked up, frowning at his surroundings. Somehow he had walked off the base to end up in the slums of the city. Not the greatest place to be so late at night-though he did not harbor any concern for his safety. He would be fine. But this was not the place where he needed to be right now. There were not any answers to be found here.

Now he was passing what looked like an old church. One of the doors was partially open, but there was not any light coming from inside. It had long ago been abandoned.

Something drew him over-idle curiosity, perhaps?-and he pushed the door open further. The moonlight accepted the invitation and traveled through the space, revealing the pews that were still in place and the stained glass windows above them. On a spot where the wooden floor had either rotted away or had been removed, white and yellow flowers were blooming.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow as he slipped inside the building. How were flowers able to grow here? They were rarely seen in the wasteland of Midgar at all. Someone must tend them. Not that it mattered.

His footsteps echoed off the once-grand walls as he advanced further into the empty meetingplace. If he could only remember something, anything, that would be a clue as to where those men had come from or who they might know, then he would have a place to start looking for the antidote. It was so maddening! He did not have time to search probable dead ends, but he could not sit idly by and wait for the scientists to come up with something.

If there was only something he could make sense of. . . .

What god was this church for, anyway? There were many religions on Gaia, and many different deities. He smirked slightly to himself. Maybe none of them really existed. Or maybe they all did. Maybe he would now be struck down by lightning by the angry god whose house of worship this had once been.

He stopped near a pillar, sighing to himself. Could there be a worse feeling than utter helplessness, knowing that nothing can be done to prevent your best friend's death?

"If there is a God, why can't You save Zack? He's done nothing to deserve this!"

He narrowed his eyes. Had he actually spoken aloud? Oh well. No one would hear him, except maybe the God.

Another thing he had sometimes heard was that the gods would help those who helped themselves. Being a very independent person, that was an idea that pleased him greatly. He had always been disgusted by those who sat back and waited for their deity to do everything for them, without even trying to do any work themselves. He would be willing to do anything now to save Zack, if he only knew what was needed . . . !

"I've done all that I know how to do," he continued, his voice filling with anguish and desperation, as well as anger. "I don't know where else to look to find the solution! Zack will die unless I can be led to something, or unless he is miraculously healed."

Again the fight played out in his mind. The man whom he had battled had been very smug and self-assured all along the way, as if he had known that they would gain victory in the end.

_"The Brotherhood will be pleased."_

Brotherhood? Was that something the man had said? Surely he would have remembered it, had it been spoken during the battle. There was not much that ever escaped his attention.

It had not been said during the fight. He recalled that much. But the words were disembodied, floating through his mind without a face or a location attached to them. Actually, it did not seem as though they had been spoken during the hostage crisis at all. But then . . . when . . . ?

Wait. It had been on the train. When he had hung up the phone after calling Shinra, a passenger had been standing near him, speaking to someone on his cellular phone. And that person had been closely watching Sephiroth and Zack until they had departed the train with the medical team. That had seemed strange, but Sephiroth had offhandedly assumed that the person had only been interested because it was something out of the ordinary to have happen on a train.

Had he gotten off the train too?

Now that Sephiroth was thinking of it, he had been wearing a cream-colored suit and a matching hat. Maybe he was a businessman of some kind, or an investigator, and maybe he belonged to this "Brotherhood." There were several anti-Shinra organizations in existence, and they attracted people from all walks of life. Businessmen were usually fairly content with the corporation, but every now and then there was one who wanted to overthrow them in order to take over himself.

He _had_ gotten off the train. He had brushed past the medics, without so much as an "Excuse me." At the time, Sephiroth had been annoyed, but had not paid him much attention.

And there was that odd symbol on his briefcase, too. Was that his company's logo, if he was involved with a business? It certainly was odd, now that Sephiroth thought of it again. A globe clutched in a veined hand almost indicated a goal of world domination. And that was surely not something they would want to openly advertise, if they were against Shinra. But it was one of his only clues.

It was a long shot, and might not result in anything but a dead end, but on the other hand, it could be the break for which he had been searching. He should return to the base and see if he could find any information on either the man, that symbol, or the Brotherhood. And he would have to hurry.

He turned to go, then hesitated. He had only remembered the comment here in the church, after his plea for Zack to be helped. Was that merely a coincidence or . . . ? He would see whether it led him to any answers before he reached a conclusion.

Quickly he strode to the door, seeing that it had creaked shut. Pushing it open once more, he prepared to head outside.

"Can I help you with anything?"

What was that?! Someone was here after all? His eyes narrowed as he whirled around to face a young woman with light brown hair pulled into a braid. She was regarding him with an expression that was both curious and concerned, as if she knew something was wrong without knowing exactly what it happened to be.

He grunted. "No, I don't think so. Not unless you know what the Brotherhood is." It was not the sort of thing that he would normally ask a complete stranger. But nothing about this situation was normal. This girl appearing suddenly, and being in the church at all at such a late hour, was odd. Or maybe he felt that way largely because of his current desperate mindset.

She blinked, looking thoughtful for a moment. "No," she said then. "I haven't heard of it."

"I didn't think so." He started to turn to leave. "It's unusual to find someone in an abandoned church, especially at this time of night."

"I was tending my flowers earlier," she said, "and I must have fallen asleep on one of the pews."

"I see."

". . . I hope Zack will be alright."

He frowned again, pausing to look at her-his expression clearly displaying his confusion. Zack? How would she know . . . ?

"Oh, you asked God to save Zack," she explained. "I heard you as I was waking up. . . ."

"Then I'll soon find out if He will." Now he did turn, walking swiftly through the doorway and stepping into the night air. Behind him, he could feel the young woman's eyes watching.

* * *

He did not recall ever going through records so fast. One after another zipped past on his computer screen, as he watched them with narrowed eyes. There were various organizations with the word "Brotherhood" in their names, and nothing immediately leaped out as sounding anti-Shinra, though he did file away a couple in his mind as sounding suspicious.

Nothing such as the strange logo was turning up, either. All of his searches for such an image were proving fruitless.

When it came to the businesses in and around Midgar, he checked through photos of press conferences and the like, in search of anyone resembling the man on the train. Maybe that person did not even have a company here. Maybe he had come from somewhere else to meet with one of the Midgar businesses. Or maybe he was not a tycoon at all.

Sephiroth glared at the screen. This seemed like a wild goose chase. Already he had been looking for nearly an hour. And judging by how things had been at the infirmary when he had gone back, there was even less time remaining than he had been thinking.

_"He's getting worse. He never has awakened, and his pulse is still going much too fast. If we can't somehow bring it down and at least delay the spread of the poison, he'll be dead in another two hours."_

And now it was half that amount of time. He needed to be leaving right now, going to find that man. Maybe it would all be for naught, anyway. Maybe the incident was unrelated. Maybe even if it was not, the person would not have any knowledge of the poison's antidote. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

There! That was him; the cold stare he was giving the camera could not be mistaken. Apparently he hated being photographed, even at official events. And there, behind him, was the symbol!

Green eyes darted down to examine the caption under the picture. He was the vice-president of Gaia Electronics, a smaller company that was beginning to grow in power. The building was right in the heart of Midgar. If Sephiroth hurried, he could make it there-but what were the odds that he would find the other there, working late? He would have to try. And if that failed, then he would have to look for a residence.

All in less than an hour. He had to allow for time to get back and to administer the antidote. If there was one. He was getting ahead of himself.

Now he stood and walked to the door, swiftly leaving his office and computer behind.


	6. Can You Hear Me?

**Percentage of New Content:10**

**Chapter Six**

Michael Androssy was, indeed, working late that night. He had returned to his office to discover a stack of paperwork nearly as tall as his desktop computer's tower hard drive. The company had been neglected by him over the weekend, when he had journeyed to meet with the Brotherhood.

The anti-Shinra organization had been plotting this secret attack for some time. They would stage a hostage situation in one of Shinra's buildings, and when the SOLDIERs arrived to deal with it, it would be seen to that at least one of them ended up poisoned. And even if the Brotherhood members were defeated, it mattered little, as long as they would be starting to take Shinra down with them.

It was only an extreme burst of luck that had sent them SOLDIERs' favored warriors, and though Androssy would have preferred to see Sephiroth poisoned, Zack Fair was just as good of a victim. Incidents such as this would start happening with more frequency, and as more of Shinra's SOLDIERs were killed, they would begin to fall apart from their depleting forces. Then the Brotherhood would launch their attack.

Androssy would see to it that he became the new leader of Shinra, though of course he would need to make the other members of the Brotherhood believe that they still had a certain amount of control as well. They would be little more than figureheads, and they would soon be disposed of, once their usefulness had been spent.

That was how he handled all such situations, stamping out the weak links. It was how he had risen to his high position in this business. And it was how Shinra would fall.

Across the room, the door opened, but the busy man barely glanced up. "Millicent, I already told you that you could go home. . . ." Honestly, that secretary was so diligent. He would have to keep her on once he took over Shinra. She would be useful then as well.

"Millicent went home."

The cold, male voice was not what was expected at all. He started, looking up at the powerful man coming towards him. The steely green eyes and silver hair were instantly recognizable from the train, and judging from the flicker in the orbs, the businessman had just been placed as well. So Sephiroth had figured it out? Well, that was only what was expected of Shinra's finest. Androssy had not thought to fool the other.

"You're dropping by awfully late," Androssy said, a half-smirk gracing his sharp features. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Why were you watching me on the train?" The deep voice was clipped and icy, sending a warning that he was not someone with whom to be trifled. That was, of course, something that many had learned the hard way in the past. But that was not a reason to be afraid now.

"Train?" Androssy said in a vague tone. "Oh, the Midgar train? There were lots of people to watch on the train. But undoubtedly one's attention will be drawn to those who are having problems. And you and your friend certainly weren't having an ordinary trip."

Sephiroth was not impressed. "What's the Brotherhood?" he demanded. It was obvious that this man knew exactly what was going on. His amused smirk said it all. And it only enraged the frantic SOLDIER.

"Brotherhood?" Androssy leaned back in his chair. "There's lots of 'brotherhoods' in Midgar, Sephiroth. You'll have to be more specific . . ."

He trailed off, his eyes widening as the tip of the Masamune was suddenly extended and aimed right at his throat. Sephiroth glowered at him, the hatred raging on his features.

"Is this specific enough?" The gloved hand tightly gripped at the hilt of the magnificent blade. "You knew that Commander Fair was going to be poisoned." Any doubts had fled his mind as soon as he had entered the office. This was not a wild goose chase. This man most likely had both the poison and the antidote, if not here, then somewhere else. Probably everyone in the Brotherhood possessed them.

"You won't kill me, Sephiroth," Androssy smiled, the name rolling off his tongue in a mocking manner. "You'll never save Commander Fair that way. Or maybe you know that you can't save him at all." He glanced to the clock. "He should be dying now, if he isn't a corpse already."

The eyes flamed, but the hand only continued to tightly grip the weapon. He would not give in. The monster was deliberately taunting him, and it would not be allowed. It would never be allowed!

"Give me the antidote, and I might let you live," he growled.

"I'd much rather be dead than to be spared by a SOLDIER," Androssy smiled. "Go ahead and stick the blade into my throat. I'm sure it will make you feel good. Though you might have a hard time explaining your outburst later on. That would be wonderful. Then my death would mean something."

He paused. "So will Commander Fair's. He always wanted to sacrifice himself for a good cause, didn't he?"

With his right hand, he began to reach for the handle on his desk drawer. The action did not go unnoticed.

Immediately the blade came down, aiming to slice into the extended hand. Androssy hissed in pain, feeling the blood start to spurt as the drawer fell open to reveal a gun. He jerked the container out all the way, and as it clattered to the floor, he ducked down and away from the sting of the katana. Grabbing up his own weapon, he reached up over the edge of the desk and fired.

Sephiroth dodged, bringing his sword up to block any future attacks. This was going to be difficult. He needed to keep the creature alive for now, in order to find the location of the antidote. But Androssy was not liable to talk. This had now become a time to fight. And he had been forced to go on the defensive.

Bullets flew around the room as the SOLDIER weaved and bobbed to avoid being struck. Several times the shots were deflected off his blade, and he saw them plunge into the floor, the desk, and even the plate glass window. It shattered, the pieces sprinkling out into the night.

One shard clipped him on the cheek. The blood was starting to drip from the slice, but it was hardly a matter of concern. Right now there was a momentary pause in the raining bullets while Androssy was reloading. And that was the time to strike.

He turned with stealth, going around the desk from the other direction. Then the sharp edge of the Masamune was brought directly against the treacherous neck. Androssy froze against it. And though his expression was unseen, it was most likely filled with either arrogant pleasure or a spark of apprehension.

"Are you keeping it in another desk drawer?" Sephiroth asked, his voice dark.

"Why don't you look for yourself and see?" Androssy returned. "Even if you find it, it won't do you any good. It has to be given when the victim has more than an hour to live. It takes a while to undo the damage the poison caused."

Was that true? Was Androssy just trying to get another rise out of him, or to make him wrongly believe the situation was hopeless? That was what he wanted to think was the explanation.

But it could be true. Maybe that was why Androssy was so smug. Maybe he knew that Zack would perish even if the life-saving substance was administered now.

It did not matter. Sephiroth would not believe that the antidote would not work, until he had tried it on Zack and witnessed its failure!

With care he shifted the sword to his right hand, enabling him to use the left to open the drawers beside him. It was a good thing he had been training himself to use his blade with his other hand, if need be. He was still not very good at it, but at least he could hold it steady without it feeling awkward to him.

The vials were in the middle compartment. They were the same size and shape, and the substances inside were the same color, but the printed labels told of the different contents. He grabbed them both, shoving them into his pocket. He would let the doctors determine which was the correct one. Right now he did not have the time to figure it out.

The sword was transferred to his left hand again before he drew it away. "I should kill you right now," he said, his voice dangerous. "I know your kind. Even if I take you captive, you won't say anything and your incarceration will be a waste. And you'll probably kill yourself." He took a step back. "I don't have time to deal with you right now." It was unprofessional. It was unbecoming of a SOLDIER. But he did not care. If he took the time to subdue this man and drag him back to the base, Zack would almost certainly die. And that was the only thing that mattered to him right now.

"You won't have time to deal with anything!" Androssy retorted. Sephiroth would not get away so easily! Without warning he brought up his gun again, pulling the deadly trigger.

There was no time to dodge. The Masamune was brought up immediately, catching the bullet and sending it right back at the shooter. It caught him between the eyes.

For a moment, Androssy froze again, in shock. Then a sick smirk graced his features as he slumped back to the floor, dead.

It had all happened in a matter of seconds. Slowly the blade was lowered. That was what happened to people like that—their plans would backfire on them. It was not a surprise. And Sephiroth was not certain what he felt about it. Even after only knowing Androssy for a matter of moments, Sephiroth hated him. Obviously he had played a part in what had happened to Zack. It was outrageous.

He turned, his hair flying out around him. It was time to go back to the base and see if Zack's life could still be saved.

In his heart, he prayed that it could be.

* * *

Fighting for his life had long ago become an endless struggle. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew that he was dying, just as Angeal had told him. His body was giving out on him. But come on! He had to hang in there! He had promised Seph. . . . And he did not want to die. He wanted to live. He had to keep at it.

The poison was a vicious foreigner in his body. He attacked it, and it attacked back, and though they were weakening each other down, it was largely a case of who would succeed first. He was so tired by now. . . . But it was tired too. He could never let up. He had to keep assaulting it while he could.

Every now and then he could hear voices echoing from somewhere around him. Sometimes it was Angeal. _"You can do this, Zack,"_ he said. _"Sephiroth's coming with the antidote. You have to hang in there, for him, for yourself, for everyone who cares about you. It's not your time to die."_

And he was sure doing his best! Having Angeal there to encourage him was really helping to buoy him up, too.

Once or twice he heard Seph, demanding for the doctors to do something._"Zack's doing all that he can. You have to help him to live! Letting him die is not an option!"_

Zack smiled slightly to himself. Seph could be very commanding, when he wanted. And that was a good portion of the time.

He also heard the doctors' replies. _"We're doing everything we can, as well, General. The rest is up to Commander Fair."_ And there was an uncomfortable pause._ "The antidote might not be enough to stop the poison by now."_

Antidote . . . ? Was that what this other overwhelming force was that had plowed into his form? It felt like it all at once might take out the poison, and himself along with it. Or was he feeling the poison fighting back? He was caught right in the midst of the combat. They were battling over him, and over which one of them would take control. And he wanted to join in as well.

Off in the distance there was beeping, frantic and speedy and always the same frequency. He should know its source . . . he _had_ known it, but now it was escaping him. What _was_ that? Now the voices had come back as well, calling to each other with concern.

_"We're losing him!"_

_"Get the crash cart!"_

"_Keep fighting, Zack!"_

Angeal again. . . . Seph was not allowed in the room while this was going on. And that must be making it all the more distressing for him. Poor Seph.

. . . But how come Angeal could be there? Oh yeah . . . it was just in his head, right? It seemed so real. . . .

A gasp of pain left his lips. The poison and the antidote, in their vicious battle, were both becoming all the more insistent.

Now there was one long, endless beep.

_"You have to hold on, sir! Please, just a little longer!"_

_"Clear!"_

"_Go back, Zack! You have to go back!"_

Were they talking to him? He was still holding on! Did they think he was . . . Hey, ow!

The electricity coursed through his body once, twice. . . . Each time, the pain was acute. But he was not dead! They did not need to do this. If he could just force his eyes open and let them know . . . !

The beeping started again, slow, methodical, and boring.

Right then, his eyes flew open, almost involuntarily. Everything looked so fuzzy and blurry. . . .

"Commander Fair?"

"Can you hear us, sir?"

Yeah, but he could barely see them. And words did not want to come out of his mouth. He was too worn out.

"He's giving a weak smile! He hears us!"

"His heart rate is starting to go back to normal as well."

"He'll be alright!"

"Just rest now, sir. You need it."

Boy, did he ever. His eyes fell shut again as he slumped back into the bed. Maybe now he could get some real sleep and let the antidote clear out whatever was left of the poison. And Seph would probably be there when Zack woke up again.

Would Angeal be gone then? He was still here now. His voice was echoing all around Zack, the last thing he heard before consciousness left him.

"_You did good, Zack. I'm proud of you."_


	7. We'll Meet Again

**Percentage of New Content: 25**

**Epilogue**

"Zack, open your eyes."

The familiar voice was quiet yet powerful—commanding yet pleading. And there was so much exhaustion in the tones.

He had been starting to wake up right before Seph had spoken. Before that, there was not anything that could be remembered. He must have been having a nice, dreamless sleep. But now he was coming back to the conscious world, and Seph sounded so tired. . . .

Again his eyes opened. He blinked, trying to push away the bleariness. There was Seph leaning over the bed, his eyes bloodshot and sporting dark circles, his bangs tangled, his shoulder armor askew. When he saw the lavender eyes trying to focus on him, indescribable relief washed over his heart and soul. He had been longing to see those eyes open, to find recognition once more in his dear friend's visage—to know that the worst had passed.

"Hey, Seph," Zack grinned a sleepy grin. "Wow, you look awful."

"And I owe it all to you," Seph grunted, not in an unkind way. "Do you remember what happened at all?"

Zack gave a slight frown. There was pain . . . illness . . . something about a train and a wound. . . . And they had been coming back from a mission. . . . And what was that he was remembering about Angeal?

"I . . . I think I passed out on the train," he recollected, his tone slow. Again with the weak grin. "Kinda embarrassing. What'd I do, eat some bad food?"

"Hardly." But Seph gave a slight smirk at that comment before sinking into a chair. "I almost wish it had only been that."

Zack watched him, his glassy eyes filled with confusion and curiosity. "Well . . . what did happen?" Seph looked like he had aged a couple years in what was surely only a couple days, if that. He had only looked that way one other time in Zack's presence—when he had revealed his one wing and the truth behind how he had acquired it.

"You were poisoned on our mission."

Poisoned?! . . . That's right, he remembered now—the sword had cut him during that fight. Poor Seph . . . ! No wonder he looked like he did. He must have just been panic-stricken.

"How long's it been?"

"This is the ending of the second day," was the answer. "You haven't been an easy patient." Seph crossed his arms over his open coat. "Though it did get less complicated when the antidote started to work."

"Antidote?" From Seph's expression, something else was obvious. And again came the remembrance of Angeal's words. Zack began to smile. "Hey . . . you found it, didn't you, Seph?"

"I did." Now Seph leaned back, looking thoughtful.

So, he mused silently, the strange recollection of the words from the train had meant something important after all. They had led to the antidote, and now Zack was getting better. But was it a coincidence that he had remembered right then in the church or not? He had not quite decided yet.

He smirked a bit to himself. What a strange subject, one he had never thought he would be pondering over.

"What is it, Seph?"

He came back to the present, seeing his friend watching him with bewilderment in his eyes.

"Come on . . ." A smirk of his own. "Let me in on the joke."

"Heh." Sephiroth leaned back. "There isn't a joke."

At any rate, he certainly had something else to think about. Maybe, just maybe, there were real miracles after all.

No. . . . Watching Zack, seeing him awake and alert, knowing that he was recovering and that he would be fine . . . there were not any maybes about it.

A "maybe", in this case, was illogical.

"Seph . . ."

He looked back over, his eyes questioning. Now Zack had sobered.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, pal."

Sephiroth grunted. "I wasn't worried. I knew you would make it."

Zack grinned. "Good deal." But from his still-tired eyes, Sephiroth knew that Zack realized the truth. His own haggard appearance probably made it obvious.

Zack himself was pondering on something as well. How could he think that he had spoken with Angeal? That was impossible. It must have been some delirious fantasy. It sure was a nice one, though. Yet how could he know about Seph getting the antidote from something made up? Something was really weird. Maybe he had just mixed into his delusions some stuff he had heard the doctors and Seph saying when he was out of it. Yeah, that was probably it.

He leaned back, frowning at the tubes and wires sticking out of his arm. "Man . . . this is crazy," he said, poking at one of them. "I feel like a scientist's experiment or something."

Guilt flooded over him as soon as the words left his mouth. He had not even been thinking about what he was saying. How could he joke about being a laboratory experiment? He looked up at Seph, regret and apologies in his eyes. But Seph shook his head. He was not bothered.

"At least some of those should be able to be taken away soon," Seph told him. "Is it painful?"

Zack shrugged. "Just feels kinda weird, I guess."

Sephiroth nodded. "It does," he agreed. _As well as highly vexing._

Zack bit his lip. "They fixed you up like this before, Seph?" he asked.

Another nod. "Several times," was the reply. "Once was when they were monitoring my body's acceptance of the wing."

Zack frowned. That was so horrible to think about. It always made him want to just go and punch Hojo out, or something. And to think that once he had believed that Hojo was an upright and amazing scientist!

"Don't think about it," Sephiroth spoke.

Zack started, looking over at him. "It's pretty hard not to, Seph," he said. "I mean, my best buddy being treated like that . . ."

"It's over now." Seph's voice was firm. "We're safe."

Zack gave a slow nod. "Hey, you must've had a pretty big adventure trying to save me," he said, changing the subject.

"You could say that." Sephiroth leaned back, crossing his arms. "I may tell you about it, when you're more recovered." Right now he could see that Zack was still exhausted. He had probably talked far too much. He should just settle back and rest.

"Aww." Zack mock pouted. "But I'd like to hear about it now!"

"Later." Sephiroth's voice was firm and unshakable.

When Zack was well, they would both need to become involved in the investigation. Gaia Electronics seemed to be a normal business, save for the vice-president's actions. But that could not be trusted. The entire company was under suspicion. Right now, it was their sole lead. And in a case of this magnitude, that could mean everything.

Zack gave a resigned sigh. "Okay, then," he said. "But you'd better make good on that promise!"

"Don't worry."

Now Zack grinned. "So! What's to eat around here, anyway?"

Sephiroth was amused. "I know you're feeling better when you're asking for food," he commented. "And unfortunately, there isn't anything except what the infirmary has to offer."

"Hey, I'll take anything at this point," Zack declared.

"You are desperate."

"Never said I wasn't!"

Sephiroth began to ease his body up again. "I'll ask the doctor what he thinks you can have," he said. "Maybe some applesauce."

A mock groan. "The applesauce here is awful. What about some peaches?"

Sephiroth smirked to himself as he started to walk away. "What happened to taking anything?"

"I still have preferences!"

"Alright. I'll see what I can do."

"And don't forget, you need to get some sleep, Seph!"

"Once your needs are seen to, I will."

"I'll hold you to that!" Zack waved a forefinger at Seph in a mock scolding way.

"I'm sure you will."

The few times he had been asleep, he had been on the empty bed in the room. It would be wonderful, to just be able to lay down and slumber without fear of being awakened and told that a new complication had arisen and that Zack had passed away, or was close to it. The panic he had felt over that, as well as his desire to just be there for Zack, had kept him mostly awake even when he had felt as though his body would simply give out. But now that he knew Zack truly was alright, the weariness was probably going to overcome him before long.

Reaching the door, Sephiroth pushed it open and stepped into the hall to find the physician. For the past two days, it had been as if he had been carrying a large burden on his shoulders. Now it had finally been lifted. He and Zack would not have to part ways. And it seemed too incredible to be true. They had slipped into their familiar banter with such ease. That was a definite sign that Zack was starting to feel better.

The smirk gave way to a genuine, quiet smile of relief.

"General? General, sir?"

He froze, looking over his shoulder. A confused nurse was hurrying up to him, a small piece of paper in her hands.

"Did you find that other man who was here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What other man?" he demanded. He had not heard anything about someone else's presence. Other than himself and the doctors and nurses, there should not have been anyone else.

She shook her head. "I caught a glimpse of him when I was going past the room to find the doctor," she said, "when Commander Fair was getting worse. Just a glimpse, but he looked around your age, with dark hair. But when we came back, no one else was in here. She held out the paper. "This was in the room, on the table. We needed to set some things there, so I just absently put it in my pocket. It must be meant for Commander Fair."

Sephiroth took the crinkled leaf, but did not make a move to open it. Whatever it said, it was not the nurse's business. He would look at it in a moment.

"It's not a matter for your concern," he said, and promptly changed the subject.

"Commander Fair is awake, and hungry," he reported. "I was looking for the doctor before I gave him anything."

The nurse brightened at this information, seeming to forget altogether about the odd note. "This is wonderful news! I'll get him right away, Sir!" she exclaimed, scurrying down the hall. "We'll be right there!"

Sephiroth was left alone for the moment.

Now he held up the note, unfolding it as he squinted at the handwritten contents. He did not feel like getting out his glasses at the moment. Maybe he would be able to read it, anyway . . .

The color drained from his face.

_Never give up on your dreams,_

_Or your pride as a SOLDIER._


End file.
